


It Didn't Happen in Budapest

by KuriKuri



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Daemons, Daemons, Fluff, Getting Together, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-09
Updated: 2013-11-09
Packaged: 2017-12-31 23:27:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1037655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KuriKuri/pseuds/KuriKuri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil Coulson has never seen Clint Barton's daemon. Most people think he doesn't have one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Didn't Happen in Budapest

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger Warnings: implied child abuse, talk of Auschwitz and unethical medical experimentation

“I heard it was killed when he was captured on a mission in Budapest,” someone said, in what they probably believed was a low volume.

(It wasn’t. Phil’s grip on his fork tightened minutely. Next to him, Isell tensed.)

“No way! Even _he_ couldn’t have survived that!” another agent replied, their voice an eager hiss as they leaned over their tray of unappetizing cafeteria food. 

“Well, I heard he was just born without one,” someone else butted in, sounding smugly confident.

“Is that even physically possible?” the first one replied. 

“Like what you heard is any more plausible,” Smug Voice replied, and Phil could almost hear their eyes roll. “There’s absolutely no way he could be that functional if someone had murdered his daemon.” 

“Well, what if he killed it himself?” the third agent said, causing the entire table to fall silent. “That’s what Jessie from communications heard had happened.” 

“That’s not possible. There is _no way_ that that is possible,” Budapest Theory retorted, although Phil detected a hint of real fear in their voice. “To be able to kill your own daemon… you just _can’t!_ ”

“That’s what Hydra did in Auschwitz,” Third Agent protested, causing everyone to look at him with wide eyes. “That’s what they were trying to do, at least. You know that old base that was found in Argentina last month? There were a ton of records of all the experiments they did at the camps buried away in the basement. Hydra was neck deep in all sorts of depraved shit involving the separation of humans and daemons.”

“So, is he crazy because he doesn’t have a daemon, or does he not have a daemon because he’s crazy?” Smug Voice mused, her tone half disgusted and half intrigued.

Phil dropped his fork onto his plate with an audible clank, causing Isell to twitch. The agents at the table behind him froze. Phil stood up, his chair screeching against the floor in a way that made Sitwell, who was sitting across from him, wince and shoot Phil an annoyed look, his echidna daemon, Meinir, tensing up in a way that made her long spines look particularly dangerous. Phil made no acknowledgement of Sitwell’s annoyance and merely picked up his tray, turning around to bring it back to the kitchen, Isell clinking to his shoulder with his uncomfortably long nails. On his way over, however, he paused by a certain table. 

“Agent Hartman,” he said, his cool gaze causing Third Agent to shrink back into his chair, the agent’s turkey vulture daemon puffing up its feathers, “I’d like to see you in my office in ten. We need to discuss your security clearance.” 

Phil was pretty sure that the agent in question just about wet himself. A feeling of vindictive pleasure washed over him for a moment as he turned on his heel and walked away without another word. He felt a little guilty about pulling rank, but not very. After all, Hartman really wasn’t supposed to be discussing those documents in such an open environment, especially with agents who had less than a level five clearance. 

Of course, Phil was also willing to admit – just a little bit – that at least part of his reaction was selfish. Clint was a good friend of his, and he could never completely suppress the spike of anger he felt whenever he heard ignorant imbeciles discussing his daemon. 

Or, rather, his lack thereof. 

Phil strode briskly down the hallway to his office, jerking the door open with perhaps a little more force than was strictly necessary. Only to find the vary man he had just been contemplating lounging on his worn leather couch like a boneless cat. Of course, the unconscious cat comparison only brought Phil right back to his thoughts of daemons, and he tried to ignore the tiny, tiny part of his mind that couldn’t help but be instinctively wary of a human with no daemon. 

“Hey, Boss,” Clint greeted sleepily, rubbing a hand over his eyes before peering over at Phil, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “What’s up?”

“Have you had lunch yet?” Phil asked, noticing how Clint’s eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly at how Phil hadn’t actually answered the question. “It’s pasta.” 

“Eh, I’m not hungry,” Clint muttered, looking away from Phil to stare up at the ceiling. 

“You’ve been working for almost thirty six hours straight,” Phil replied, walking over to his desk and letting Isell slide down to rest on the small space of uncovered wood still left. “When was the last time you ate?”

The archer hummed noncommittally, but didn’t otherwise answer. Phil turned to look at him again, frowning. Clint carefully avoided his gaze, silence consuming the office. 

“I heard a few agents gossiping about you,” Phil said finally, still looking at Clint. “Is there anything you’d like to talk to me about?”

“It’s nothing new,” Clint retorted, finally turning to shoot Phil an annoyed glare. “Just junior agents being stupid.” 

“Well, I’m pretty sure I’ve never heard the one about you having killed your own daemon before,” the older agent answered calmly, although there was an underlying steel to his tone. 

Clint blinked in surprise, his mouth opening unconsciously before he snapped in closed again, reopening it a moment later. His eyes darted to Isell for a split second. He didn’t shrink away like most daemons did upon meeting Clint’s gaze. 

“I… hadn’t heard that one either, Sir,” he finally said, something dark clouding his eyes. “It doesn’t matter, though.” 

There were so many more questions that Phil wanted to ask, but he held his tongue, merely nodding as he sat down in his swivel chair. He didn’t attempt to start another conversation. When he looked over again, Clint appeared to have fallen asleep, his breathing deep and steady. Phil sighed, Isell waddling over to curl up in his lap. The agent tried not to be too amused by the way his long, flat tail scattered documents around the normally pristinely organized desk. 

Phil tried not to wish that he knew what had happened to Clint’s daemon. He hated how he wanted to know, how he wanted to insinuate himself into Clint’s life in such an intimate way. When Phil had initially brought the archer into SHIELD, he’d asked Clint outright. Clint had said that he did have a daemon, but refused to provide any further information about whether his daemon was still alive or not. Even Natasha knew next to nothing about Clint’s daemon.

Of course, his notable lack of a daemon brought plenty of criticism and gossip, some malevolent, some not. Phil knew a little bit about what it was like to have people constantly judging you and your daemon – after all, in a society in which human-daemon pairs were normally opposite genders, he and Isell were both male, not to mention the fact that Isell was, well, a _platypus_ – but his own experience was not nearly as harsh as the gaping, prying reactions that Clint invariably encountered wherever he went. 

“You probably shouldn’t have said that,” Isell said suddenly, causing Phil to blink in surprise. 

“I,” Phil started, frowning. “Yes, I probably shouldn’t have.”

“You should get him a sandwich or something,” Isell continued. “He’s going to starve himself if he keeps this up.”

“I don’t want him to think I’m patronizing – ” Phil started tiredly. 

“He won’t think that,” Isell butted in, his voice completely certain. “Oh, and while you’re at it, you should confess your undying love for him.”

Phil glared at the small platypus. 

Clint woke up to find a turkey sandwich waiting for him. Sadly, there was no love note. 

\---

All of SHIELD had exploded into crisis mode. Some Asgardian named Loki had stolen the tesseract, along with Dr. Selvig and Clint and was preparing to take over the world. Did he mention that Loki had taken Clint? Because he was kind of stuck on that bit of information at the moment. Isell looked like he sorely wanted to stab someone with the poisonous spurs on the back of his hind feet, but at the moment was settling for whipping his unwieldy tail back and forth agitatedly. 

“Coulson, I need you to contact Romanov and tell her to bring in Banner. I don’t care if she’s in the middle of a mission,” Nick Fury barked, Phil snapping to attention, his fingers already deftly dialing Natasha’s number. “Afterwards, I want you to convince Stark to come in.” 

“Yes, Sir,” Phil replied, trying not to externally show his internal wince at the thought of having to bring in Stark. 

“Hill, I want you to – ” 

All of the sudden, Phil felt something touch the back of his neck. A bizarre wave of warmth, arousal, longing, and a whole slew of other emotions he couldn’t quite identify washed over him, causing him to let out a loud yelp of surprise. 

Hill and Fury turned to stare at him, both confused and on edge. Phil, whose face was already bright pink, turned possibly even redder as he flailed his hands around, trying to figure out what exactly had just attached itself to him. His hand brushed over soft fur and delicate wings and another wave of heat overtook him. On his other shoulder, Isell stiffened, his heart thumping so quickly and so loudly Phil could almost hear it as well as feel it against the skin of his neck. 

“Phil, what the hell – ” Fury demanded, but Phil tuned out the rest of his sentence, as he carefully detached the small creature that was clinging desperately to his neck. 

Phil blinked down at the tiny ball of fur gently cupped in the palm of his hand. His blush came back in full force as he realized that whatever this tiny creature was, it was clearly someone else’s daemon. The realization that he was touching someone’s daemon without their permission chilled his insides for a moment, before he realized that he was actually feeling a surprising amount of pleasure from this small amount of contact, which meant that somehow he had permission to touch this little daemon. 

“What _is_ that?” Hill asked, also clearly shocked as she peered over at the tiny daemon. 

Upon hearing her question, the little creature unfurled itself, suddenly identifiable as some sort of pint sized bat, but even unfurled it’s body couldn’t have been longer than Phil’s pinky finger. 

“I am a Kitti’s hog nosed bat, thank you very much,” the small mammal announced, puffing up her tiny chest and bearing her miniscule fangs. 

“Ah,” Phil started, uncomfortable about speaking directly to someone else’s daemon. “You are a daemon, aren’t you?”

“Of course I am,” the bat replied, her chest still puffed up and her fur all fluffed. “Leontia. I just wish that I could have been introduced under better circumstances, Agent Coulson.” 

“Oh. Hello,” Phil greeted awkwardly, at a complete loss as to who could possibly be paired with the little bat sitting in the palm of his hand. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m afraid I don’t know who your human is.” 

Leontia looked at him blankly for a moment. 

“Well, Clint, of course,” she answered. 

“That son of a bitch,” Fury muttered, his great grey owl daemon, Aeronwen, leaning over and craning her neck in order to get a better look at Leontia, who bristled in response, bearing her tiny fangs again.

“Coulson!” Hill exclaimed, eyes widening. “Why are you still touching her? If she’s Barton’s daemon you’re probably hurting – ”

“I’m not,” Phil broke in, glancing down at Cyricus, Hill’s caracal daemon, who was pacing agitatedly, sharp teeth already partially visible. “I’m pretty certain I’m not hurting him.”

“You’re more than ‘pretty certain’,” Isell commented, clearly trying not to snicker and causing Phil’s cheeks to turn bright red once more.

“How are you not dead?” Cyricus asked bluntly, jumping up onto table next to him in order get a better look at the little bat. “Is Barton somewhere in the area?”

At this question, Leontia visibly deflated, slumping her little body, looking far more tired than she had just moments ago. 

“I can’t sense him anymore. Ever since Loki touched him with that spear of his, he’s just been… gone. That’s why I came to you,” she said, looking up at Phil. “Clint told me that if anything like this ever happened to him I was supposed to go to you for help.”

“Oh,” Phil replied, at a loss for what else to say. 

“Well, despite the fact that I would love to know why Barton’s kept this from SHIELD for the past eight years,” Fury interrupted, Aeronwen still pinning Leontia with her unnerving stare, “we still have a lot of work to do, such as informing Romanov and Stark of this situation.” 

“Yes, Sir,” Phil answered automatically, snapping to attention. 

“We’ll deal with the rest of this later,” Fury finished, glancing back down at Leontia. 

The little bat just bared her fangs at him. 

\---

All that talk of near death experiences happening in slow motion is bullshit. Phil almost missed his, actually. The only things he registered were that, shit – Loki was behind him, and that then a flash of brown fur and rapidly beating wings, skeletal and bare except for a thin membrane of skin, were beating and clawing at the Asgardian’s pale face.

Loki let out a hiss of shock as Phil acted on instinct, whipping around and using Leontia’s momentary distraction to blast Loki with the gigantic gun in his hands. He was quite pleased to find that the emitted blast knocked the god through two different walls. 

“Next time, aim for his face,” Leontia instructed idly, settling on Phil’s shoulder again as they admired their handiwork. 

“Hopefully there won’t be a next time,” Isell replied, peering over from his perch on Phil’s other shoulder. “You know, we should probably – ”

All of the sudden, Leontia froze. Then, just as abruptly as she had frozen, she launched herself off of Phil’s shoulder and into the air, extending her wings in flight. 

“Leontia! Where are you – ” Phil yelled. 

“Clint!” she called, not looking back. 

Phil’s insides froze. His body, however, did not. He took off running after her, halfway into the hall, before he realized that Loki was still in the other room. Hell, Phil wasn’t even sure if the guy was unconscious, much less secured and no longer a problem. Muttering curses under his breath, he turned and sprinted back to find Loki already gone. 

\---

Phil and Isell didn’t end up seeing Clint and Leontia again until the next afternoon, after the battle was won and the climax of the crisis aftermath safely passed. 

“Hey, Boss,” Clint’s tired voice said, causing Phil to startle as he walked into his small office to find Clint sprawled over his couch. 

“I,” Phil began before stopping himself. “You can call me Phil. After everything that’s happened in the past few days I think it’s warranted. You know, not to mention the fact that we’ve known each other for eight years now.” 

“Oh,” Clint replied, his expression shifting into some unreadable emotion. “Okay. You can call me Clint, then.” 

They stayed like that for a moment, Phil standing awkwardly in the doorway and Clint sitting stiffly on the couch. Phil glanced over at Clint again and was surprised to find Leontia openly sitting in the juncture between Clint’s neck and shoulder, blinking at him and Isell with the same unreadable expression on her face as was on Clint’s. 

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Isell blurted suddenly, surprising Phil along with Clint and Leontia. “I don’t mean to be rude, but…”

Phil glared at Isell who merely gave him his frequently used ‘you know you wanted to say it’ look. Clint glanced down at Leontia briefly before answering.

“There’s a reason Leontia took the form that she did,” Clint said, reaching a hand up to gently stroke the tiny bat’s soft fur. “I did a lot of hiding as a kid. I guess after a while I just felt like I couldn’t stop hiding.” 

“You know, you don’t have to hide from me,” Phil replied, walking over to take a seat next to Clint on the couch. 

“From us,” he corrected as Isell poked at him with his bill. 

“Yeah, I do know that, I just…” Clint started, hugging his knees to his chest and glancing over at Phil through his thick eyelashes. “I kept telling myself that I’d tell you tomorrow, but, well, I guess I just never quite got to tomorrow.” 

“We trust you guys, though,” Leontia butted in. “We really do.” 

“I don’t doubt that,” Phil replied, just as Isell said, “Well, of course you do.” 

“I just don’t understand why you came to us, though, with all of the Loki stuff,” Isell continued, sliding down Phil’s suit jacket to rest comfortably in his lap. “I mean, why not Natasha or Bobbi or someone?” 

Clint looked up at them, clearly surprised, mouth hanging open before he buried his face in his hands. And started laughing.

“Clint?” Phil said, equally confused and concerned. 

“What did I say?” Isell asked, looking up at Phil who just shrugged. 

“You guys still don’t get it?” Leontia sighed, as she tried to stifle her own giggles. 

“No,” Phil and Isell answered in unison. 

Leontia sighed again before suddenly launching herself off of Clint’s shoulder and fluttering over to land on Phil’s neck, nuzzling against his exposed skin. Whatever heat Phil had felt when he had touched the little bat before increased exponentially and Phil felt a little dizzy from the varied emotions coursing through him. 

“Does that answer your question?” Clint asked, trying to appear cocky and confident, but clearly nervous. 

“I think it does,” Phil replied, before leaning forward and drawing Clint into a deep kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> Daemons:  
> Phil Coulson – Isell, platypus  
> Clint Barton – Leontia, Kitti’s hog nosed bat  
> Jasper Sitwell – Meinir, short nosed echidna  
> Nick Fury – Aeronwen, great grey owl  
> Maria Hill – Cyricus, caracal
> 
> _I do not give permission to have any of my works put up on goodreads or any other such site._


End file.
